


Seflie

by lostinthegoldenpines



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Modern Moomin AU, Silly, Subtle Snufmin, snufmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthegoldenpines/pseuds/lostinthegoldenpines
Summary: Modern Moomin AU one shot
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Kudos: 69





	Seflie

Moomin woke up to the sound of the espresso machine rumbling, the radio playing an old twangy country song that Pappa was humming loudly along with, the floorboards creaking as Moominpappa paced back and forth as he muttered about his newest novel. Snorkmaiden sounded like she was doing a loud tutorial—probably make-up again. He wasn’t sure which app it was this time—Instagram, Tik Tok, Youtube, whatever it was, his phone would buzz soon to let him know. Little My was pounding at the bathroom door, screeching for her turn. With a huff, Moomin rolled over and covered his ears with his pillow. He was willing himself back to sleep until he heard the soft but sweet sound of a harmonica gently carried up by a soft summer breeze. Scrambling, Moomin reached for the toothbrush and toothpaste near his bed (he was having to improvise since Snorkmaiden had become so internet famous and occupied thee bathroom for hours at a time). Spitting into the trashcan, he slapped on some deodorant and was out the window, down the rope ladder before the chaos could snatch him up, keeping him from Snufkin. Paws pounded across the soft grass until he arrived at the bridge, huffing, and puffing, his stomach reminding him that he hadn’t had breakfast yet.

“Snufkin!”  
“Moomintroll,” the murmrik said lazily, chewing on the end of a dandelion. His fishing line was already cast, his booted feet dangling off the edge of the bridge without a care in the world.

Moomin flushed a bit in embarrassment at how excited he had sounded. Probably too excited.

“Ah, yes. Right. Snufkin,” the plump troll plopped down next to the vagabond, stomach still rumbling.

Grinning with a throaty chuckle, Snufkin pushed a plate towards Moomin. It had been hiding in his shadow. Surprised, Moomin accepted the plate, becoming excited when he saw it was stacked with pancakes.

“I made too many at breakfast and saved the rest for you.” Snufkin hummed, recasting his line. “I found some fresh blueberries and added them along with the dried apple pieces your mom gave me last week—she needs to teach me how she does that.”

“I know she really seasons them well in cinnamon, brown sugar, and nutmeg before dry freezing them,” Moomin recalled as he devoured the food. “Wow, these are amazing! I didn’t know you could cook more than fish!”

“How rude, of course I can cook more than just fish—even I need some variety from time to time. Or at least for breakfast.”

“Fish for breakfast would be a bit much.”

“Ah! Speaking of fish!” Snufkin’s line bobbed underwater for a moment or two as he began to reel his catch in. “Would you mind getting the net?”

Pancakes forgotten, Moomin wrapped his sticky paws around the wooden handle, praying maple syrup would be easy to wash off the net and helped Snufkin to haul in a large minnow. There was a lot of splashing of water and one pancake was sacrificed to the creek before the fish was successfully transferred to a bucket of water.

“Dinner or lunch?” Moomin stared down glumly at the lost pancake, watching as a crawfish was trying to haul it off. At least there were two more for him to finish, though now his paws were wet and smelly.

“Hmmm, maybe dinner. I’m still full.” Snufkin tossed Moomin hand-sanitizer before taking out a brand new phone. “I suppose I can look up recipes.” He took a picture of the fish, typing rapidly with his thumb.

“Snufkin! What is that?” Moomin cried out in surprise.

“Ah, well,” Snufkin blushed, tugging at his hat. “Mymble and Joxter decided to give it to me as a way of staying in touch. At first, I refused but then Joxter dropped it and the screen got cracked, so, I guess taking it was better than throwing it away.” The phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. “Ah, they saw the fish. Mymble’s sending a dinner recipe right now.”

“Why haven’t you ever called me?” Moomin blurted, his ears pink with frustration and anticipation. “Or at the very least text me! I know you have my number.”

“Well, I don’t get the opportunity to charge it often, so I only use it now and then to check-in and for emergencies. If I text you or called you, we’d be on the phone for hours until the battery died, and then I will probably be chased up a tree by a wolverine again, but this time no way to call for help.”

“I suppose that’s true, though I don’t like to admit it.” Moomin sighed before pausing, his tail whacking gently against the bridge. “You were chased up the tree by a wolverine?”

“Yep.”

“When was I going to hear this story?”

“Possibly today, possibly tomorrow.” Snufkin smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Moomintroll huffed and pouted. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Thankfully not, though this was before I came back to the valley.”

“I want to hear it all!”

“Of course.” Snufkin slipped his phone back into the secret pocket in his jacket. “Also, please keep the phone situation between just us. I don’t need Little My sending me a thousand pictures a day or Snorkmaiden trying to force me to go on to social media.”

“I promise not to tell a soul!”

“Good. You and Moominmamma may have my number but that’s about it. Not even Moominpappa. Understand?”

“What?” Moomin giggled. “You don’t want to have a two-hour conversation with Moominpappa over his car or his newest novel?”

“Is the car still acting up?”

“‘See Moomin, they don’t make troll cars like they used to’!” Moomin huffed like his Pappa, pretending to tip the hat forward and waggle his paw. Snufkin threw back his head and laughed. “‘my feet don’t touch the pedals like they should and the music is too loud!’”

“Shockingly enough, no I don’t want to have those conversations.” Snufkin wiped away at a tear from laughter. “Camping in the mountains is so much more peaceful than that sounds.”

“Mmm, camping would be nice.” Moomin sighed, looking up at the clouds, closing his eyes briefly to enjoy the breeze. Moomin’s phone suddenly vibrated and he sighed. “Probably Snorkmaiden. She was making another tutorial video this morning.”

“She is quite talented. I wouldn’t be surprised if she became very famous soon.”

Moomin took out the phone—he wasn’t planning on watching it, only liking the video—when he saw it was from an unknown number. Frowning, he opened the text.

“An unknown number—oh.” It was a photo of Moomin, nose pointed towards the sky and eyes closed. Sun rays were reflecting off his fur as if he were glowing. The camera had captured the beautiful azure blue of the sky. “Snufkin you’re fantastic at taking photos. Have you ever thought about being a photographer?”

“What? No, I couldn’t.”

“Well, if you ever decided to, I know Papa has an old camera he’s not using. It’s not like you have to publish or sell the photos or anything—though you absolutely could. As a nature photographer. But even to send to us every now and then.”

Snufkin’s looked as if he were hard in thought, so Moomin took the opportunity to take a quick photo of his friend. It wasn’t, in Moomin’s opinion, as nice as Snufkin’s, but he saved the photo anyway. He sat up, his ears perked.

“Take a selfie!”

“What?”

“Take a selfie of you and me, oh please Snufkin, you’d do such a wonderful job!”

Snufkin grumbled until Moomin started booping his nose repeatedly. Laughing in defeat, Snufkin took out his phone, taking a moment or two to adjust the settings and then snapped a few photos, sending the best one to Moomin.

“I’ll cherish this always, thank you Snufkin!” Moomin hummed, putting the photo as his screensaver.

“No problem, Moomin.” Snufkin flushed, adjusting his hat, recasting his fishing line. He would put the same photo as his screen saver, but a bit later.


End file.
